Life is Beautiful
by MadHatter2708
Summary: A spin-off from my other story, Captivation. Ana's tale, how she became what she is/was. Set in the 19th century, Ana is preparing to leave the only home she has ever known. After meeting David, in a chance encounter, Ana has some big decisions to make.
1. Anastasia's Predicament

A/N Well, I always wanted to explore Anastasia more. So here it is; Ana's story! Forgive me if I have some historical details incorrect, I'm not all that certain on their life-style, so I've had to improvise. Please let me know if you think I ought to continue it, the first chapter is often the most important one, for capturing the interest of readers. Hopefully I haven't made too many mistakes, but right now I can't be bothered checking, so I'm sorry if there is. Anastasia is based loosely on The Lost Boys: The Beginning. I don't own The Lost Boys, or the lyrics of "Life Is Beautiful," (Which I chose, as I thought it suited Anastasia perfectly) Hope you enjoy! (:

Life Is Beautiful

_Life is beautiful  
We love until we die_

_When you run into my arms,  
We steal a perfect moment.  
Let the monsters see you smile,  
Let them see you smiling._

Chapter 1: Anastasia's Predicament

_My name is Anastasia, and I..._

Sighing, she scribbled that out. It just wasn't working for her. Chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen, Anastasia thought about how she could best describe herself. Her mother, Rita, had suggested that she should start a diary, to straighten out those scattered thoughts of hers. Anastasia had been sceptical about this idea, but had, nonetheless, decided to attempt it.

It was difficult for her to order her thoughts, however, she couldn't even begin to think of adjectives to describe the things she saw and the emotions she felt. No one understood, least of all her.

She had grown up in a world where beauty was the be all and end all. Vainness was not considered an undesirable trait, quite the opposite. But for all the pretty dresses, meticulously applied make-up and intricate hair styles, Anastasia often thought there had to be more to life. It had been drilled into her from a young age, beauty brought you everything. Her own parents had been clear about that, they had looked at her beauty as a gift, one which was not to be squandered. She had been promised to marry. How she hated this fact; as those she was nothing more than a possession, to be traded with other families.

But there was nothing she could do.

Now she could only enjoy these last few days, as her sixteenth birthday drew near.

Tonight they were to visit some ball; it would be her first recognised as a woman. Not a girl, a woman. She would have been looking forward to it, if it had not been bestowed on her like some consolation prize: to make up for the removal of her own free-will. But nothing would amend that.

Anastasia sighed again, closing the diary shut with a snap. Lovingly, she stroked the leather-coated cover; it was lilac – her favourite colour. It was only now that Anastasia wondered whether this was deliberate. She forced these thoughts away, they were tainting the initial pleasure she had experienced, at the idea it had been simply been a fortunate coincidence. In her world, she was discovering, these lucky occurrences were, more often than not, only wishful thinking.

She returned the diary to its hidden place beneath her bed. Not the most secretive place, but she had her dog, Ilya, to guard her room. A spaniel, best known for his tracking skills, was a retired working dog, whom her family had allowed her to adopt. He was, to her mother, only a distraction, but he was Anastasia's dearest friend and companion.

Life's pretty grim; when your only friend in the world happens to be of the canine variety.

Clicking her tongue at him, he lifted his head and wagged his tail, then sensing her unhappiness, came to rest his head on her lap. She smiled and allowed him to do this, although it was running through her head that Rita would not be best pleased. "Mongrel," "fleabag," and many other obscenities, which Anastasia had been told on no uncertain terms was she to repeat, were often spilled from Rita's mouth, when she came to describing Ilya. Rita was not, to say the least, an animal person.

Anastasia lay back, staring at her ceiling. Painted a mid-night blue, stars adorned the majority of it. A soft, lilting light filled the room at large. Sunset was drawing near.

She idly wondered why Rita was taking so long to call her. Usually, when they went out, Rita had taken to preparing for the evening, at least two hours earlier than necessary. Whoever said being late was fashionable, had never spoken to someone like her.

And as much as Anastasia wanted to join in on their enthusiasm, she couldn't help but remember their plans of marrying her off. This had hurt her so deeply; she feared she'd never shake the resentment off.

None of it mattered now. They had made their decision- and she had made hers. Tonight she would go, and she would appear happy, and delighted by the direction her life was heading in. Her family would be beyond pleased- she had a reputation for being one to dig her heels in, at the mention of a party-and they would give her a bit of a free rein. This is what she hoped.

A good few hours later, with much wailing about the disaster of the clothes, hair -everything really- Rita declared them fit to be seen.

Dressed in soft green dress, with roses patterned around the edge of the skirts and her hair curled and piled high on her head, Anastasia felt beautiful. It was not something she was accustomed to, sure, she knew she was pretty, but it was something that she had always seen as a curse. Her beauty was the reason for this marriage, if she had been...well, not ugly, but average, she would have been overlooked, just like her siblings, not forced to attend balls and parties, in order to gain attention on the family.

Still, that was the curse she had been given, and she'd just have to deal with it.

And yes, she knew, things could be so much worse. Beauty was supposed to be looked upon as a blessing, not the blight she saw it as. And maybe she was selfish, maybe she was being petty, but everyone has hang-ups, and this was the one thing she could have done without.

"Anastasia! For goodness sake girl, hurry up!" the sharp voice of their maid, Ludmilla, jerked Anastasia out of her thoughts.

"Be there in a moment!" She called back. Throwing down the book she had been reading, Anastasia walked to the threshold of her room, it was never a good idea to antagonise Ludmilla. Pausing, she thought about the diary hidden beneath her bed. Barely thinking about it or considering why she wanted it with her, she quickly ran to the bed, stuffing the book into her small bag. Ilya regarded her thoughtfully, and Anastasia blushed, as though he would question why she had done it. It wasn't really the dog eyeing her which got to her; it was the idea of what explanation she could offer anyone, if they did happen to come across it. She didn't have an answer for them.

She just had a feeling she'd need it tonight.

And although she didn't know it at the time; she was right.


	2. Two Left Feet

A/N Hello, no one has said whether or not this is okay, so I'd really appreciate it, if you were to review. Please and thank you. (: And yes, again, not too sure about the real historical traditions and all that, so sorry. (:

_Do I hold you too tightly?  
When will the hurt kick in?_

Life is beautiful, but it's complicated.  
We barely make it.  
We don't need to understand,  
There are miracles, miracles.

Chapter 2: Two Left Feet

The scent of perfume was over-powering. Its sickly sweet aroma twisted around the room, swirling its way around the obstacles before it – basically the dancers, from which it had originated.

Anastasia watched the dance floor, with some amusement. The assortment of clothes was fascinating, from the richly embroidered silks, to the plain, mediocre cottons. Rita took great care in presenting themselves in the rich category. She was vain that way.

She watched as time and time again a young man plucked up the courage to ask his chosen lady to dance. It was endearing to Anastasia.

Rita was dancing with yet another would-be-courter, her red skirts bellowing out, as they twirled their way around the hall. It was jam-packed; scarcely room for a hair breadth of empty space, yet new couples kept joining the ever-growing dance floor.

They had been there for less than an hour, however Anastasia was aching to go home, her face muscles hurt from smiling at everyone, her cheeks painful from all the cheek-pinching, and her legs cramped from sitting down for so long.

She was contemplating leaving, when a young man, of perhaps eighteen years came into her view. She paused in her movement and sank back into the chair. The arrival of someone, who was not ten years her senior, had interrupted her train of thought. The man looked up, his blond hair flicking back, as he did so. Impatiently, he pushed it out of his eyes, and this gave Anastasia the chance she required to avert her gaze.

He frowned and looked back and forth, as though he had lost someone or something. Anastasia had never really taken an interest in other people, especially of the male gender. It wasn't because she shunned the idea of friends, it was more the idea of the day when she would have to leave them behind; to join her new husbands family, who was, she was told, currently residing in France. She didn't think she could bear that kind of heart-ache. It hadn't been difficult; she did not often meet with others her own age, which was precisely why this man had stopped her in her tracks. She just had to talk to him; she _had_ to, no matter how briefly. It might be the last chance she ever got, in Russia.

Anastasia looked up again, and disappointment crashed over her, as she realised he was no longer there. Well, that was that then.

"Excuse me, would you care to dance?" Anastasia began to shake her head, she didn't dance. She _couldn't_ dance. But she was interested to see who the owner of this voice was; he was the first to even attempt approaching her.

Imagine her shook when she saw the man. Yes, it wasn't very shocking, this was who she had noticed, and evidently he had noticed her, so it was not, in any way, unexpected. His expression betrayed no emotion, his eyes were steady in their gaze; his mouth set in a stern line, although, there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner.

She looked into his icy blue eyes, and shivered. Anastasia shook it off, "your name?"

The smile grew slightly bigger, "David. Yourself?"

Anastasia paused, she didn't want to reveal her own name, he'd know who she was, and maybe treat her differently. And anyway, wasn't she entitled to even have just a taste of fun?

"It's...Anya." She settled on that, it was similar to her own, so she wouldn't forget it.

"Anya...So, a dance?"

She hesitated, keeping an eye out for Rita. Anastasia, although not a snob, had taken into account the man's clothing and it definitely came into the lower category, if not below that. Anastasia didn't care, but Rita would.

As it was a nice night, it didn't seem unreasonable to suggest they ventured outside for a walk. After all, as mentioned, Anastasia did not care for the art of dance. Something which was very much frowned upon and something which Rita had attempted numerous times to alter, to no avail.

Anastasia stood up, scrupulously checking for creases in her clothes. The rules had been drilled into her. She looked David in the eye, "why don't we walk? It's a nice night." She didn't expect him to refuse. A gentleman would not refuse her request. She began to walk in the direction of the door.

David didn't move, "I never offered that. I offered a dance." He smirked half-heartedly.

Maybe he wasn't such a gentleman.

She twisted round, "I don't dance," she told him, crossly. Hey, if he wanted to play games, so could she. She was _not _desperate.

"Oh come on. One dance won't kill you."

Anastasia smiled sweetly at him, "maybe, but it might kill you. You haven't seen the atrociousness of my dancing. It isn't a pretty sight."

"I find that hard to believe, Anya."

It took her a moment to respond, the whole Anya thing was throwing her.

"Believe what you will."

He took a step closer, "I hadn't intended for it to be any other way."

She stepped backwards, "well, if you will excuse me, David, I am not interested in dancing, so I will bid you goodnight."

Anastasia began to walk away, weaving between the tables. It was regrettable, the incident, but maybe he just wasn't right for her. That thought stopped her. She shouldn't be looking for anyone! She betrothed. The notion added more weight to her already heavy heart.

"Hey, your name isn't really Anya, is it?"

She paused, debating whether or not to turn around. The latter won out.

"What makes you say that?" They were in a hall, full of hundreds of others, but it felt as though it was only the two of them. All thoughts of Rita had all but flown right out of her head.

He smiled, "you can't fool me. When I called you your supposed name, "Anya," I wondered whether you were going to respond at all. Your expression was blank, it was clear for a fleeting moment you had no clue as to who I meant, and if that's your name, I somehow think you'd have some idea."

Anastasia looked at him in amazement, she had faltered for literally less than a second.

He raised an arm, offering me a hand, "if you dance with me, all will be forgiven, _Anastasia_."

She tentatively made her way back in his direction, very every step keeping her focus on his hand.

"Why would I want your forgiveness? I don't need it." He smiled, as though this was the response he had been expecting, "but how will you live with yourself? Knowing you hurt me this way?" He mock fainted, placing a hand over his heart.

She sighed, knowing he was going to get his way, however jokingly he meant it; Anastasia would have to dance with him now, otherwise she'd still feel sorry for it, so she continued to come closer.

He nodded encouraging, "come on, what doesn't kill you; makes you stronger. I think I can handle it." He grinned crookedly.

For the first time, Anastasia met his gaze head on. She felt the tension leave her body, and she relaxed. She lifted her own hand, and albeit uncertainly, placed her hand in his.

This touch sealed her fate: it signified the beginning of the end.


	3. Conflicting Secrets

A/N Haha, must seem like I have no life to speak of, with such regular updates! Lol This story shouldn't be too long, I originally intended it to be a one-shot, but couldn't condense it well enough. I've tried to keep it as close as possible to what I mentioned in Captivation, but it might not be exact, sorry if I have any/some plot holes. Thanks very much to southernvampirepirate and CarvedKid – you guys make my day! (:

_Yeah, life is beautiful.  
Our hearts, they beat and break._

_When you run away from harm,  
Will you run back into my arms,  
Like you did when you were young?  
Will you come back to me?_

Chapter 3: Conflicting Secrets

For the first time, Anastasia danced with another who was not twice her age. It was very different, she was discovering, as they cautiously stepped around the hall. David was a confident dancer, who was visibly at ease; Anastasia on the other hand, was being overtly diligent, placing each foot with care. David watched her with amusement, "loosen up a bit; embrace it."

She smiled down at his feet, not daring to tear her gaze from the floor, as though this was her safety net, which would prevent her from stepping on his feet or falling over.

Without pausing, he twirled her around and around, causing her to experience the sensation of dizziness. She laughed exuberantly, "stop it!" He too laughed, and slowed down the spins, gripping her arms, as she swayed. She shook her head, "I've never done that before!" He smiled, "I didn't think you would have."

She watched as the smile froze on his face, become strained, sags and then slips, falling from his face altogether. Anastasia tried to turn, to see what had changed David's previously cheerful demeanour so. But she could see nothing. And one can understand nothing, if one knows nothing.

"What-"He lifted a hand, to silence her,

"I must leave now." His tone was harsh, and cold, not something she had expected to be emitted from his mouth.

He abruptly released his hold on her, causing her to very nearly crash to the floor. However, he did catch her shoulder, stopping her before her head connected with the ground, pushing her back onto her feet.

He smiled ever so briefly one last time, just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of it.

"Goodbye, David."

He looked at her with hilarity present on his face, "goodbye? I think not. I'll be seeing you again, Ana."

She smiled in pleasure at this abbreviation on her name; no one had ever taken to using a nickname on her. She just wasn't quite sure how to take his statement; it was almost like it was a threat, despite his, albeit softly spoken, choice of words.

David didn't wait for a response, and was gone in a heartbeat, melting silently into the throngs of the fellow dancers. Anastasia, thought about their encounter with regret, regardless of David's assertion, Anastasia would not be seeing him again.

She was staying in this hotel with Rita tonight, and tonight only; tomorrow they would return home, and within the month, Anastasia would leave for France. She would not be returning.

And so, she'd try and recall this memory with fondness, her first and last dance with David, the man who'd known who she was, known she had lied to him but had accepted her nevertheless.

"Anastasia!" The voice calling her now was laced with much more irritation than the one before it. Groaning, Anastasia looked for Rita's conspicuous red dress, a stark choice amidst the sea of blues, greens and whites. Spotting her buried in-between a number of blues, Anastasia pushed her way through, no longer bothering to worry about etiquette. It was just as well Rita had consumed so much liquid, or Anastasia might have been in a lot of trouble, but she was beyond of caring.

"Ahhh where you been, Anastasia!" She laughed, which confirmed Anastasia's suspicions, she'd had too much, her mother never laughed, unless it was a very exceptional circumstance.

Grasping her arm, Anastasia began to guide her in and out of the crowd, intending to head for the lobby. Currently they were in the room which was rented out purely for occasions such as this one.

Rita was in no hurry to leave, however. "You go on, I'll catch up later." Anastasia deliberated on what to do, her mother would adamantly deny her behaviour to the grave, so wouldn't punish Anastasia for it, but did she really want to leave her down here? The answer to that: yes. And thrice yes. But was it the _right_ thing to do?

Anastasia gave up, sod it, Rita was going to do what Anastasia wanted to do for once. "No, you're coming with me." Rita protested, but didn't resist. She and alcohol didn't mix well together. Leading Rita behind her, Anastasia headed for the lobby, intending to collect the keys to their room.

She received the keys from the check-in, and pretended she was planning to sleep, feigning exhaustion. The bellhop smiled in understanding, as he showed her to their room, leaving her with an atypical, "has a good morning." As he left, Anastasia frowned; it wasn't late enough for morning right? And she _was _right, it wasn't past ten. So what had he been going on about?

No matter. She didn't have time to dwell on such insignificant details. Opening the door to their room, she gazed at its furnishings; they had clearly spared no expense in the designing of this hotel. Airy rooms, with high ceilings were apparently a common feature here. This room was particularly nice, painted with a lilting, glowing orange, and large windows adorned the walls, capturing the natural light, adding to the soft, unspoken essence of the room.

Rita, without so much as one word, blearily tottered forward, collapsing on the closest bed. Within minutes, she had fallen prey to sleep.

Anastasia noticed their suitcases had already been delivered to this room; which meant she had nothing left to do. After some thought, Anastasia settled on arranging her clothes, and then maybe taking a walk, out in the gardens, after all, this had been denied to her earlier, and she absolutely loved being outside, amongst nature.

After checking through her bags, she remembered the small leather diary. She pulled it out, stroking the smooth leather, opening to the one pitiful line she had written. Anastasia stared at the snowy white pages, which seemed to be mocking her with their emptiness. She considered writing about tonight's incident, trying to imagine how she could begin to describe it. David was even more difficult to illustrate.

She had only just begun writing, only managing to place two words upon the page, when a knock sounded from the door. Anastasia frowned again, who could be calling at this time? And Anastasia _was_ tired; she was fighting her dropping eyelids.

Still, not unlike leaving a ringing phone, Anastasia could not leave a knocked door unopened. Stuffing the diary beneath her suitcase, she staggered to her feet and moved in the general direction of the door.

Rubbing her eyes, she pulled the stiff, heavy door open. Without looking up, she spoke sharply,

"What do you want?"

"That's not a very gracious welcome, what would your mother think?"

That caught Anastasia's attention, glancing up, she found herself eye-to-eye with David.

She looked back, and remembering her sleeping mother; stepped forward, pulling the door shut behind her.

"What are you doing here? It's late!" She hissed at him.

David smiled, unruffled, "not that late. Besides, don't I owe you a walk, Ana?"

She shrugged, true, she had wanted to walk, but time was wearing on, and Rita would not be happy if she were to awake, only to find Anastasia gone.

David, sensing her wavering thoughts, grinned, "Come with me; take a walk on the wild side." He offered his hand to her, once again, but this time, she knew it wasn't only about a walk, or a dance; it was ultimately about her decision.

For a brief second she considered saying no; shutting the door on him; and slumbering the sleep of the dead. But that wouldn't have gotten her any further from where she was now. So, against her better judgement, she took him up on his offer.

Time seemed to slow down, to her, as she moved her hand towards his. His face remained expressionless, and Anastasia kept her gaze firmly on his hand. It was abnormally pale, in comparison to the rest of his skin.

For the second time that night; her hand gripped his.

Only this time, it was for an entirely different reason.

A/N Few questions, which I'd really appreciate if you answered. (:

If there is something I need to improve with Anastasia, (she is very unlike what I usually like to write about lol.) I'm hoping she isn't Mary-sue! Hehe.

If you've read the other, you know the ending, but I'm trying to decide how to get there – do you think she dies human or vampire?

Overall opinion?

Thanks! :)


	4. Iniquitous Desires

A/N Hello, just saying thanks as usual (: I've made David rather nice in this chapter, probably causing this to be out of character, but in my defence - remember he is still human! Haha, hope you all like it. Remember to review, if you don't mind? (: Sorry if you find mistakes, I can't be bothered to check it over.

_I will hold you tightly,  
when the hurting kicks in._

Life is beautiful, but it's complicated,  
we barely make it.  
We don't need to understand,  
there are miracles, miracles.

Chapter 4: Iniquitous Desires

The moonlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, pooling over the grass beneath it. Anastasia admired its beauty, the pureness of the white light. David watched her with interest, at her patent appreciation of the natural features of the garden.

She turned to him, her eyes clear and bright, "you never told me, David, how old are you?"

He smiled, "ah but what is age, if not only a number?"

Anastasia looked at him, "tell me, please." Her expression became somewhat concerned.

He laughed, "Calm down! I'm eighteen."

She relaxed, "oh okay."

He did not question her age, and she did not offer.

They continued to walk, once and awhile pausing to regard certain specimens. Anastasia was making the most of this rare opportunity, but these feelings of regret were still coursing through her and despite her best efforts, David could see this; through her eyes.

"Did you know," David began, stopping in the centre of the garden, "that they say the eyes are the windows of the soul?"

Anastasia also stopped, coming to stand by his side, after a long while she responded, "no, I did not."

David didn't smile, as Anastasia had been expecting, evidently this was not a subject he would attempt to make light of, "do you know what I see in your eyes?"

Anastasia shook her head, wondering what was coming next.

David broke eye-contact, turning to face the moon, his silhouette become half shrouded by the shadows, "I see lies, Ana. I see a secret. What are you hiding?" He twisted round to witness her reaction.

But if he was looking for one, she did not give one, with the exception of a slight clenching of her fist, and a tightening in her eyes, she gave no clear indication of irritation. But, although Anastasia did not know it, David had noticed these minor alterations.

She spoke, low and deadly, "I have no idea what you mean. I have no secret, David. Your eyesight must be deficient."

David replied softy, in contrast to her harshly-spoken words, "or perhaps you are only lying to yourself."

Anastasia shook her head again, and resumed movement. David watched her for a few paces, before he too regained his stride. He caught up to her swiftly, "I apologise, if I have offended you."

When she spoke, defeat was evident, "it does not matter; it is not of your concern."

He touched her arm, "I would like it to be."

Angrily, she shook his arm off, "well I don't! Okay? I don't want to remember it, I want to forget; I want to be able to be free of my demons, even if for only a moment."

His expression hardened, ever so slightly, "as do I. Now, Ana, tell me."

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, she blinked them back, determined to not display such a weak and vulnerable form of emotion.

"All right, you really want to know? I don't know what you expected to come of this, but nothing can. I am leaving within the month, and nothing which is said or done now shall challenge that."

He looked fleetingly surprised, "that is all?" He caught her expression, "Ana, do not fret so much."

She glared at him, "No, it is not. I am to be married; to someone I've never even met..." Her eyes widened, as she realised what she was saying. Shocked, she clamped a hand to her mouth, surprised she had revealed so much to someone, who was, in retrospect, a complete stranger to her.

"Don't cry," he murmured, tilting her chin. Impatiently, she wiped her eyes; maintaining eye contact with David, "I am not."

Without another word, he threw an arm around her waist. She appreciated the gesture, although she was idly thinking that it wasn't really appropriate.

And even though it wasn't like they were doing anything further than this, she still felt uncomfortable at the idea of someone seeing them.

After a few more prolonged seconds, Anastasia pulled back

Stealing his line from earlier, she hurriedly spoke, "I've got to go."

He just watched as she speedily crossed the grass, heading for the hotel. When she reached the threshold, she paused, turning back. She caught him watching her, and he waved at her, evoking her to blush. Pulling herself together, she quickly broke the eye contact and headed inside, aiming to get back to the room as quickly as possible.

It was eerily silent. You would think in a hotel of this distinction, you'd find some employees or guests wandering the grounds. But it appeared to be empty. Anastasia wasn't sure what to make of it, but she'd always been instructed to keep her head down, and so she did this, ignoring the odd atmosphere.

She encountered no one, throughout the entire hotel, which accentuated her already strangely static mood.

When she arrived at her room, she apprehensively checked for any signs of life. Rita appeared to be dead to the world.

Before sleeping, she decided to take one more glance out of their room. Luckily, they had a brilliant view of the gardens, and she could freely watch the moon, from the comfort of their room.

She stared dreamily at it, reminiscing about the nights' events. Rita groaned, turning over in her sleep, and it occurred to Anastasia that sunrise wasn't far off, and Rita would have a full blown fit; if she awoke to find Anastasia still awake.

As she turned from the window, she caught a flicker of movement. Glancing back, she could have sworn she saw a motionless figure in the garden, but then she blinked, and there was nothing.

She shrugged; dismissing it because of the shadows the trees cast. Trees covered a great deal of the perimeter and made it look as though there were motions. And besides, she was tired, and it was most likely her fatigue affecting her ability to separate what she was really seeing, to what she _thought_ she was seeing.

Preparing for sleep, she turned her thoughts to tomorrow. They hadn't made any plans, but Anastasia still hoped against hope that he might take it into his head to even say goodbye. Although her emotions were confusing her, she knew she did want to see him one last time, and erase their last bitter exchange, that wasn't the light note she wanted it to end on.

And so, she waited for sleep to embrace her in its soft, warm arms, where nothing and no one could harm her.


	5. Unforeseen Proposition

A/N Hello, sorry this is quite short, I'm struggling with this, to be honest I'm considering just giving up on it, but I'll try not to! (: Thanks very much to southernvampirepirate and CarvedKid! And if anyone has any ideas, I'd really like to know, as, like I just mentioned, I'm sort of unsure on where to take it.

_Stand where you are.  
We let all these moments pass us by._

_It's amazing where I'm standing,  
There's a lot that we can give.  
This is ours just for a moment.  
There's a lot that we can give._

Chapter 5: Unforeseen Proposition

"_David, are you sure?" _

_David nodded tersely, his face half-shrouded by the shadows._

"_I am sure."_

Anastasia awoke to her mother's bustling around, "Get up, Anastasia, it is very unladylike to stay in bed past eight."

Anastasia considered bringing up her mother's behaviour; then decided against it, "Yes, mother, I am up."

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, leaning back when a wave of vertigo hit her. Glancing out the window, she saw it was a lovely day, the sunlight shone bright and clear, it was a cloudless sky and there was only the slightest of hint of a breeze.

Rita came back into the room, "What are your plans for today, darling?" Anastasia looked at her suspiciously; Rita was not keen on pet names. Rita caught her expression, "I thought I'd maybe head out."

Anastasia shrugged, so that was it. "Fine, I'll maybe just read or something." Although she said read, she was more thinking along the lines of her diary, "I'll go outside for a bit."

Rita smiled, pleased by her sensible decision. What struck Anastasia was the fact that Rita wasn't the least bit wary about Anastasia's half-truths. Was she such predictable person that she wouldn't even be questioned? Sure, she was planning to do what she said she was, but she was hoping she'd stumble across David.

"Okay, I'll see you later."

Anastasia focused on her, and sure enough, Rita was all dressed and ready to go. Anastasia must have over-slept by a lot.

"Yes," She agreed, watching her leave.

A peculiar feeling hit Anastasia, as she watched her go, after a moment of deliberation, she shot out of bed, yanking the door open.

She scanned the hall, spotting Rita, and barely thinking about why, she shouted down the hall, "love you!"

Rita turned back, looking surprised, "love you too."

Anastasia smiled, still feeling ill at ease.

Rita raised a hand, waved, and continued on her way. Anastasia watched her retreating back, wondering why such an urge had overtaken her.

Shaking her head at this odd predicament, she got dressed, choosing her favourite blue dress. She chose to do as she had told Rita, and within ten minutes was prepared, armed with the diary and a fountain pen.

Anastasia left the room, pausing in the doorway, something still didn't feel right...but there was nothing to see, and she shut the door quickly, with more force than necessary.

She had packed her items into her bag, and she kept feeling an overwhelming urge to open the bag, in order to check they were still there. But she had no reasonable explanation, of course they were! Why would anyone want to read her ramblings? They wouldn't.

Once again, the hotel was quiet, not quite to the same extend as the night before, but quiet nonetheless.

No one acknowledged her presence; everyone simply continued their chosen tasks. Anastasia kept her head down, walking casually, and slow-paced to the gardens.

Eventually, she found an unoccupied bench, which was perfect for her. She sat on it, and opened her book, however did not begin writing. Instead, she watched other people, with their families. Children, playing with one another; parents, watching fondly; teenagers, appearing bored and uninterested. It was always the same, but ever so charming.

Anastasia sat back, enjoying the warmth of the sun, on her skin. Abruptly, she felt a shadow fall over her, blocking the sunlight. Squinting, she tried to focus on the figure before her, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to guess as to who it was,

"David!" Anastasia sat up again, cradling her book, hoping he wouldn't notice it.

To her dismay, he did, "Ana," he smiled, "what have you got there?"

She pushed the diary under her hand, "nothing," she responded, gazing innocently at him.

He wasn't fooled, "you wouldn't mind if I took a look then?" He whisked the book from out beneath her, whirling around so she couldn't snatch it from him again.

He flicked through the pages, apparently disappointed by the lack of entries, "nothing about me? I must say, I am saddened that I am not thought important enough to include. Where are all the torrid fantasies?"

Anastasia glared at him; standing up, to grab the book back. He gave it up without resistance.

"Is that why you came over here? To bug me about how little you seem to think I think about you."

David grinned, feigning shock, "why of course not! How could you even suggest such a thing? As if I'd waste my time on such small matters." His expression became more serious, "however, there is something I wish to discuss."

Anastasia looked at him expectantly; waiting for him to continue.

David visibly took a deep breath, before carrying on, "I understand if you are not the least bit interested, but I must try... I know we have not known each other long, but, Ana, will you stay here, with me?"

Anastasia's mouth fell open, and she gasped. It wasn't a proposal, but it was damn close.

"David...I don't know...I barely know you!" At this point in time, Rita and France were the last things on her mind.

He lifted his gaze, "there _is_ something I haven't been telling you..."

A/N Anyone take a guess as to who David was talking to, at the beginning? Virtual cookie if you get it right! (:


	6. Horrifying Incidents

A/N Okay, guess I'm keeping the cookie! Haha Thanks for reviewing (: And I have actually finished the story, but it feels kind of rushed...let me know if you think that please! (: oh and I have a plot hole here, if I'm sticking to what I said in Captivation. I'd mentioned Max in there, and I tried to incorporate him, but it didn't work, so ignore the fact that I said Max did some of this stuff, instead, it's all going to be Vlad. Hmmm I seem to be very fond of names beginning with A. Lol, I don't plan it that way, honest! (:

_I'm so tired of being here,  
Suppressed by all my childish fears.  
And if you have to leave,  
I wish that you would just leave.  
'Cause your presence still lingers here,  
And it won't leave me alone._

_These wounds won't seem to heal,_  
_This pain is just too real._  
_There's just too much that time cannot erase._

Chapter 6: Horrifying Incidents

It was not unusual, of course, for young woman, roughly her age, to be propositioned by men. In fact, it was a given occurrence. However, it was only to single woman, and Anastasia was pretty sure she'd made it clear she was taken. Granted, she had also made it evident that she wasn't happy about this fact, but nonetheless, that didn't lessen the truth.

This paralleled her first "fight" when she was a little girl, ten, at the most. She had had a plentiful supply of friends in those days, just people to keep her occupied, Rita had said.

Anna and Ash, those were the names of her two best friends.

Ash had asked Anastasia to play with him, by themselves, without Anna. Ash was Anastasia's first "crush," although, as Rita had said, "they were much too young to even be considering such matters."

Anastasia wasn't sure what to do, when Anna had later asked Anastasia to play with her. Such a dilemma for a ten year old. So, Anastasia did what any child would do in her place. She asked her mother.

Rita had laughed, "Anastasia, it is simple. Do what benefits you best. Which, in this case, appears to be playing with Ash; he'll make a fine young consort one day."

Anastasia, young and naive, had listened to Rita, whom had _never_ had a genuine friend. She lied to Anna, and Anna found out. Anastasia lost her best friend that day. She'd never forgotten it.

Now, here with David, Anastasia knew she couldn't lie; she had to be honest, to him and to herself.

But David wasn't finished explaining, he shuffled his feet and looked anywhere, besides her. Anastasia waited, growing impatient. Eventually, David looked her in the eyes, and it seemed to decide it for him, "Ana, I'm a...vampire."

Anastasia goggled at him, "don't be absurd! You're here, in sunlight."

David sighed, "Allow me to rephrase that, I am _going_ to be a vampire."

She looked at him in disbelief, "I can't believe you'd try to humiliate me like this! Try to even attempt to fool me! What type of person are you?" Her eyes began to fill up with tears, and everything she'd just remembered with Anna and Ash, had flown promptly out of her mind, "leave me alone! Just...go..."

She spun away from him, gathering her things. David attempted to explain, "Please...I just wanted you to know the truth..." He watched sadly, as she walked away, before turning to stare at the cellar window, near the bottom of the wall of the hotel. Unheard by Anastasia, he kicked a stone, muttering, "This is your fault," under his breath, never removing his eyes from the window.

Anastasia, half blinded by tears, was hurriedly heading back inside, when had everything become so complicated? Did David think she was a gullible fool? Why would he tell her _that_?

She had only been away for a few hours, so was sceptical about finding Rita in. So, she was pleasantly surprised to find the door unlocked, while, at the same time, feeling a sense of deep foreboding.

The door was loose, _very_ loose, on its hinges. The wallpaper was slightly torn, and the colour faded. But it was barely perceptible; no one seemed to have the slightest curiosity concerning it. Maybe she was seeing things.

Rita was sleeping, sprawled across the bed. Anastasia wondered what she had been up to, which had affected her so. She nudged her with her toe, earning a grunt in response. Despite her current depression, Anastasia couldn't help but smile.

Moonlight had finally fallen, they'd be leaving soon. Anastasia looked at the still sleeping form of Rita, and frowned; this was unlike her. She needed to go to the reception, in order to check out, but seeing her like this, Anastasia resolved to do it herself. She'd never done it before, but it couldn't be that difficult, right? This was the last ever time Anastasia saw her mother alive.

Anastasia had only been gone for mere seconds, when another form entered the room, finding Rita alone. He did what he came to do and no one saw him neither enter nor exit.

Anastasia was only just beginning to perk up, when she came back to the dreadful sight which awaited her.

Rita was clearly dead.

Blood pooled across the floor, splattered the walls and swirled around her ankles. It was like some hellish set for a horror movie.

Anastasia stepped backwards; an audible gasp escaped her lips.

A hand clamped across her mouth, preventing her from emitting further noises.

She struggled in their grasp, desperately seeking an escape route. This was it. She was going to die.

The owner of the hand leaned close into her ear, "Ana, stop it! It's me, David."

Anastasia just about collapsed with relief.

She whirled around, seeking comfort, pulling him into a hug, "I was so _scared_," she mumbled into his shirt, the words muffled by the material.

David surveyed the scene before him, he'd known it would be bad, but he hadn't realised just how bad. The sight repulsed him. Just not quite as much as Anastasia would have liked.

She pulled back slightly, "David? Come on, we have to get help. They've...murdered her!" her voice began to take on an edge of hysteria, as what had happened began to sink in, "they killed her! They killed her! I was only gone very briefly! It's my fault isn't it!"

David looked at her sharply, "don't start blaming yourself," he told her, in a low voice.

He was glad she seemed to have all but forgotten their previous conversation in the garden – either that or she just hadn't put two and two together yet.

He hoped fervently that it was the latter; she had to know- just not yet.

David looked at her tear-stained face; as the tears continued to run in rivulets down her cheeks, cascading onto the floor. He felt a wave of shame for what he was putting her through, but it would be worth it, in the long run. She'd see that too. At least, he hoped she would.

Pinching the bridge of his noise together, he muttered, "You've really gone too far this time, Vlad."

It was too low for Anastasia to hear, and perhaps, if she'd been paying attention, she might had realised something was deeply amiss. But, understandably, in her state, she did not.

Unfortunately, this meant there was no going back now.

Anastasia had two choices, and David could only pray she'd make the best – and right, decision.


	7. An Irreversibly Terrible Time

A/N I really hope you all like it (: I feel like I had this rushed, sorry if it seems that way. Also, I wanted to ask, if anyone has any free time, I'd really appreciate it, if you were to read a story I've written for school. It isn't long, under two thousand words. So, if you wouldn't mind reading it, and telling me any improvements to be made etc. Let me know in a review or PM please! Thanks (:

_When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears,  
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears.  
And I held your hand through all of these years.  
But you still have,  
All of me_. 

_You used to captivate me,  
By your resonating life.  
Now I'm bound by the life you've left behind,  
Your face it haunts,  
My once pleasant dreams.  
Your voice it chased away,  
All the sanity in me._

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.  
But though you're still with me,  
I've been alone all along.

Chapter 7: An Irreversibly Terrible Time

The enormity of the situation sunk in twenty-something minutes later. Anastasia didn't know how to function on her own; she'd never had to.

David continued to hold her, allowing her to nestle against him, waiting for the inevitable moment, in which she'd realise. It came, a few minutes after he had begun thinking about it.

"It was _you_!" She pulled back, with a fierce expression, "you, and your vampire stories! Why?"

David sighed, keeping a hold of her arm; should she try to run, "I didn't kill her. I know who did though...If you come with me, we can make everything better."

Anastasia bit her lip, what options did she have?

"What will you do?"

David grimaced, "that would spoil the surprise...come on," he began to walk away, pulling the door shut behind him, no one would discover Rita for a good few hours, by then they'd be long gone.

Anastasia hesitated, her mother had just _died_. And now she was just going to willingly follow whom she suspected to be the murderer? Dear god.

David, irritated by her reluctance, yanked her arm, "there is nothing you can do for her now. I don't want to hurt you, but I will."

She looked at him with fresh eyes, what had happened to the sweet, bluntly nice, David she had known?

Glancing around fearfully, she trailed after him. His threat wasn't even veiled.

Eventually David stopped at another room door, one on a much lower level, close to the bottom floor, the basement.

"You'll be staying here." Anastasia looked at him anxiously, was he keeping her prisoner?

David ran a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry." And then he pushed the door open, shoving her in after it, locking the door once she was in.

Anastasia collapsed on the floor, why was he doing this to her? Rita hadn't hurt anyone, she hadn't deserved to die. Life was cruel.

The room was small, a claustrophobic air surrounded it. Anastasia ceased to notice it, she curled into a ball on the floor, comforting herself, and waited for the darkness to claim her for its own.

David returned to find her like this, lying foetal position on the floor. But he had to awaken her.

He nudged her gently; she stirred, and settled down again. She was dreaming, none of this had ever happened, where she was. After receiving no further response, he scooped her up, bridal style. He carried outside, after checking for wandering employees and guests, but Vlad had taken care of this, as he had said he would.

David took her where no one in the hotel liked to venture, the cellar.

Vlad was waiting for their arrival; he stood, with his back to the window.

David stopped a few paces from him, tenderly lowering Anastasia to the floor. He stroked her cheek, imagining the future. He raised his head to Vlad and inclined it in a mark of respect.

Vlad watched on, amused, "how'd she take it?"

David shook his head, "not well, she blames me."

Vlad laughed, "Not to worry, not to worry. That will be easily remedied. Are you ready, David?"

David shook his head, "not yet, first I have to take her somewhere safe, she shouldn't have to see this. Unconscious or not."

Vlad nodded in agreement, "as you wish, but hurry; time is of the essence."

David once again rose with Anastasia in his arms. Her head lolled to one side, one eye opening slightly, unfocusedly.

Vlad smiled, "I'd definitely hasten, David. She is awakening."

Anastasia was fully conscious when David lowered onto the grass, only a good few metres from where Vlad was. Except, she didn't know this.

She opened her eyes, and studied David. He looked back at her, both stonily and kindly, at the same time, if that's even possible.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice was but a whisper.

The words almost seemed to hurt David, "because I have to."

She paused, unsure of how to phrase things; she didn't want to annoy him, "why?"

His eyes grew soft, and dark, "if you are to be with me, you must become what I am."

"Honestly, what are you?" Her eyes dilated, as she grasped the answer, "You _are_ a vampire?"

David nodded once, brusquely, "I wasn't lying to you. I am half-vampire. I want you to be likewise."

Her head snapped back, "no! No. I won't. You can't force me."

David sighed, as though this was what he had been expecting all along, "I thought you'd say that...but, I'm afraid, you have no choice. You know about us now. And Ana, I love you."

She had been all set to argue until she turned blue, but then she heard the last part of his sentence,

"If you truly love me, let me go. I don't want to be a killer." Anastasia whispered, dropping her gaze to the ground.

David looked aghast, "I can't! If I don't, he'll kill you...I can't bear that. I _won't_ bear it."

He advanced on her. Anastasia closed her eyes in anticipation.

But the pain never came.


	8. Almost Salvaged

A/N Thanks to CarvedKid, you really made my day! (: I'll dedicate this to you. Sorry, it's sort of short :( Only 2 chapters to go! (:

_Catch me as I fall,  
Say you're here and it's all over now.  
Speaking to the atmosphere,  
no one's here and I fall into myself,  
this truth drives me into madness. I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away._

_Don't turn away,_  
_Don't give in to the pain._  
_Don't try to hide,_  
_Though they're screaming your name._  
_Don't close your eyes,_  
_God knows what lies behind them._  
_Don't turn out the light,_  
_Never sleep never die._

Chapter 8: Almost Salvaged

She opened her eyes cautiously; David was standing a few feet away.

"God help me, I can't. I can't do it," he was muttering to himself, keeping one eye on her. He looked up at the moon, realising he had to leave now.

He walked slowly past her, pausing when he was level with her, "I...I have to go now. Stay here, I'll come back, I promise." He wasn't sure whether his promise reassured her or scared her.

She nodded wordlessly.

He left, swiftly, returning to Vlad.

Anastasia sat up, cradling herself. She thought she might die at any moment from this mind-numbing pain; she was sick. Sick at heart.

She'd never be going home now. That was the only definite thought Anastasia could conjure up.

And so, she waited. She didn't know how much time had passed, the moon dragged ever so slowly across the sky. She plucked at the daises, littering the grass. Smiling, as she remembered childhood memories of daisy chains. How simple life had been then.

She heard them before she saw them. She knew with just one momentary glance that David was what he had said he was. Moving with the predatory grace of a marauder, stalking prey, David was no longer a man. He was a monster. She would never agree to be like him. One look at Vlad confirmed her fears; his eyes held a cold, cruel, depthless knowledge, which no one, not even himself; could ever even begin to comprehend. His mouth was smiling, but it just fell short of his eyes.

"Well, well. Now it's your turn." Vlad drawled out, keeping his eyes on her face.

Anastasia pressed her lips together, struggling with her emotions. The better side won out, and she remained silent.

David watched on, a trickle of blood trailing from his lips. She kept her gaze on him, "who did you..._kill_?" She wasn't sure why she had asked, it wasn't like she really wanted to know.

Vlad grinned, wanting to stir things up, hoping to annoy Anastasia: that would make it easier for David to grab her and do what had to be done. Or, if he was too weak, Vlad would do it.

"Your mother, now she tasted good. If I'd known that before..." He licked his fingers in a melodramatic fashion.

Anastasia switched her gaze to him, her hands curling in the soil, her face screwing up in disgust.

"You're a monster, and a coward! Why did you pick on her? She'd never done anything to you! Was it because your just a weak, old, coward, who can only take life?"

Vlad growled, and Anastasia shut her mouth, realising she'd gone too far.

Vlad looked at David, "you better manage to keep her under control, David! Otherwise, there may be an unfortunate incident."

David nodded in acknowledgment, "yes, master."

"Do it. Now."

David moved towards Anastasia, gritting his teeth. Anastasia cringed away, as she caught sight of his fangs.

"Don't do this," she whispered, as she gazed at his determined expression.

He looked down sadly at her, lowering himself next to her on the grass, "you'll feel differently about it, once it's done."

She looked at him sadly, "I'll stake myself, as soon as I wake up. Do you think I'm not brave enough?"

He laughed, although there was nothing remotely humorous about the situation, "You're too brave, that's your problem."

Vlad watched without humour, "get on with it, David! Sunrise is drawing near."

"You'll feel differently, once it's done," he repeated, without conviction.

He pushed her hair away from her neck, exposing the skin. He lowered his head, until his fangs were brushing the delicate surface. He kept his eyes on the frantically pulsing membrane, just visible beneath her milky white skin.

She tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-strong.

"Sorry." And then he sunk his fangs into her.


	9. Disastrous Finality

A/N Yes, updating again! Haha, I have no life. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy (:

_I'm frightened by what I see,  
But somehow I know that there's much more to come.  
Immobilized by my fear,  
And soon to be blinded by tears.  
I can stop the pain if I will it all away._

_Don't turn away,_  
_Don't give in to the pain._  
_Don't try to hide,_  
_Though they're screaming your name._  
_Don't close your eyes,_  
_God knows what lies behind them._  
_Don't turn out the light,_  
_Never sleep never die_

Chapter 9: Disastrous Finality

The pain was overwhelming. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She was dimly aware of Vlad's presence and David's sounds of pity, as he sucked the life out of her. Everything she'd ever done swam in front of her eyes. She settled on the memory of the day she had gotten Ilya, her one true companion.

_The fluffy dog skittered towards her, its paws scrabbling to gain a grip on the flooring. Anastasia laughed at his antics, as did her mother. "What will you name him?" Rita asked. "Ilya," she had replied. Rita smiled, Ilya had Russian origins, "that's nice, dear." She stood up, brushing the stray hairs from herself. Anastasia watched her leave, cradling the dog in her arms. Ilya licked her face in response, she squirmed and smiled in contentment._

_Why was this memory calling out to her? It was in no way remotely significant, nor did it signify a thing._

_Ana...Ana...Ana..._

_Was she dying? _

_It sure felt like it._

_But Anastasia wasn't scared, far from it._

_Maybe Rita would come and meet her; maybe they'd leave earth together...maybe..._

Oh it hurt. She jolted awake, finding herself in a dark room, the curtains drawn.

"David?" She managed to say, her mouth sore, and tender. Her throat was burning.

"I'm here," he moved out of the shadows, his face solemn. The burning was increasing, it hurt _so _badly.

She gestured towards her neck, "my throat..."

David nodded in understanding, "I know, I know, we can cure that soon."

It hit Anastasia what he was suggesting, "no! I won't kill someone!"

But even as she said it, she was imagining warm, smooth blood, running down her throat, quenching this indescribable thirst.

He smiled at the pure bliss on her face, "I told you that you'd get used to it."

Her eyes snapped opened, "no," she shook her head vehemently, "no."

She jumped to her feet, swaying slightly.

"You can't make me a killer. You can't. I can prevent it!"

And she ran, blindly, from the room. Only hearing a hint of David's echoing cry, "Ana! Don't!"

Vlad stepped out from behind the door; he sighed and looked at David, "guess I'll have to fix this."

David sunk to his knees; he knew what Vlad's definition of "fix" was. She was as good as dead now. He shouldn't have tried to do this to her, but Vlad had made it all sound so _perfect_. But nothing is perfect, and David should have remembered that. Now Anastasia was paying the price.

She kept running, unaware of the footsteps which echoed hers. She didn't know where she was heading, anywhere, anywhere from this place.

Vlad could easily outrun her, however kept at her heels, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. He had agreed to let David change the girl, but had made it clear that if she objected, she was to die. He couldn't have unwilling vampires, they caused too much trouble. It twas a pity, David would be much harder to control now.

Growing bored of the chase, he tackled her to the ground. They both fell, falling with a thump.

She squirmed and wriggled, desperate to free herself. But it was to no avail. She had thought David strong – Vlad possessed at least three times his strength.

"Ah stop struggling, you'll only make it worse for yourself, you know," from his tone, he could have been talking about something as mundane as the weather.

"Why did you change me, if only to kill me?" She spat at him, injecting as much venom as possible.

Vlad shrugged, "it was what David wanted, who was I to object? If you'd only accepted it, I wouldn't have to do this."

"I'll never do what you do! You kill innocent people!"

"Yes, yes. Details, details. Anyway, Ana, enough chit-chat."

She growled at his use of David's nickname for her, "Don't you _ever_ call me that!"

She stared into those bottomless pits of eyes, and smiled maliciously, "you may be able to kill me, but I have one thing, which you'll _never _have."

Vlad looked down at her, genuinely curious, "and what's that?"

"Love."

His eyes glinted, anger visible. So she was right, Vlad was just a heartless killer. She waited, her heart beating steadily, she'd said what she wanted to say. If he killed her now, at least she'd gotten the one thing she'd always longed for. It was a cliché, yes, but isn't it what everyone strives to achieve? To love and be loved in return.

It had all started with a dance. A simple dance. You never know when fate will strike.

Anastasia forgave David.

And, with great precision, and swiftness, Vlad ended Anastasia's life, with one swipe of a fang.

The light left her eyes, slowly and carefully. Her face became frozen into that of never-ending satisfaction and eternal contentment.

Even in the end, she hadn't lost hope.

And that is all that matters, right?


End file.
